


Warmth and Waiting

by adorkablephil (kimberly_a)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 08:05:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18279173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimberly_a/pseuds/adorkablephil
Summary: Some domestic angst and fluff as Dan contemplates YouTube





	Warmth and Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been months since I wrote any fic, but—like Dan—I’ve been dealing with other stuff. Then this just happened.

“Do you ever think about giving it up?” The question came out of nowhere. Phil took another bite of pizza, watching Dan’s face.

“Giving what up?” Dan had no idea what Phil was talking about. Pizza? Because there was no way Dan was giving up pizza. Even when he was going through his vegan phases—trying his best to live healthily—the greasy, cheesy goodness called to him. Vegan cheese didn’t taste as good as the real stuff, but it was still pizza. And he wasn’t vegan right now, so the pizza was excellent. He took another bite and savored it.

Phil put down his slice of pizza and wiped his hands and mouth on a piece of kitchen roll. “YouTube,” he replied seriously.

Dan blinked. He hadn’t expected this, especially not over pizza and an episode of “Stranger Things.” This was a relaxing Netflix binge of a beloved television show to prepare for the highly anticipated upcoming new season, not a time for potentially life-changing conversations.

“Let’s just … let’s just watch the show,” he replied. He heard the slight tremble in his voice, and he knew Phil would hear it, too.

Phil touched Dan’s wrist, just gently. Not forcing him to put down the pizza, not forcing him to do anything, because he never did … just urging him to stop and think and be serious for a minute. He only did that when he had a good reason, so Dan put down his pizza and cleaned up with the kitchen roll.

He looked at Phil’s serious face and bit his lip nervously. Why did he feel so nervous? “You think I should give up YouTube?” he asked. He could hear the uncertainty in his own voice. It had been a year since he’d uploaded his last video that wasn’t about the tour, and he’d been feeling rotten about that for months, ever since they’d gotten back and he felt like everyone was waiting, watching his channel and his Twitter and his Instagram and just … expecting things from him. Things he didn’t feel ready to give. Expectations that paralyzed him with self-doubt. And the longer he went without “giving the people what they want,” the greater the expectations grew, at least in his own mind. The greater the anxiety, the greater the self-doubt, until they had grown to be a monster that devoured all of his creativity.

“You think I should give up YouTube,” he repeated, not a question this time but a statement.

Phil took his hand and leaned forward to kiss him gently. “I think you should do what makes you happy. Does YouTube still make you happy? We don’t need the money. You could focus on the other things you do, the other things you care about.”

Dan felt tears spring to his eyes and looked away from Phil’s gaze. The silence stretched until finally he choked out, “But how long would I be relevant if I stopped making videos? How long would people care about my involvement in YoungMinds? How long would people care about anything I do? YouTube is the only way I can … the only way I can make people care about me.”

Phil pulled Dan into his arms and shushed him, kissing his hair and holding him tight. “It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. People care about you. The people who count will always care about you, no matter what you do.” Phil tilted his face up to kiss Dan’s lips gently before he added, “Unless you become a cannibal.” Dan choked out a laugh at the unexpected levity, and he could hear in his own voice that he was crying, even though there weren’t tears on his face … not yet. If Phil kept being so sweet to him, the tears would fall soon enough.

“I just feel this … this weight bearing down on me,” Dan explained hesitantly. “Everyone waiting for me to do something amazing.” He was glad Phil didn’t make an AmazingPhil reference, because right now wasn’t the moment for levity. “After the depression video and ‘Trying To Live My Truth’ … it was like my channel was going in a different direction, you know? A more serious direction … like I want … like with my merch, you know? I want to make a difference. Help people who struggle with the same things that weigh me down every day. Keep a sense of humor about it, but talk about things that really matter.”

Phil gave him a squeeze and asked quietly, “And you feel like you can’t make those videos?”

Dan broke free, gesturing wildly with his hands and crying out, “I just feel like I can’t make anything like what everyone is expecting! It won’t be good enough, not after all this time they’ve been waiting!”

Phil smiled gently at him, not trying to pull him close again, knowing that Dan would come back when he was ready … and, sure enough, Dan curled up against him a moment later. Dan thought to himself that it felt like a metaphor somehow. A metaphor for his online life, his YouTube channel, everything his audience was expecting from him and how he reacted.

Maybe, like Phil, they were just waiting for him to come back when he was ready.

Dan turned off the television with Netflix still paused on the episode of “Stranger Things” and pulled gently on Phil’s hand, leading him to bed, where they lay close and kissed softly in the dark.

A few hours later, Dan looked up when a bleary Phil shuffled into the dimly-lit lounge, rubbing at his eyes under the frames of his glasses. “I woke up and you weren’t there,” Phil said, his voice husky with sleep.

Dan set his laptop on the table to make room for Phil next to him on the sofa, and they cuddled close, warmth between them sinking into his bones. “I had a video idea,” Dan said quietly, the words dropping hesitantly into the night as he ducked his head under Phil’s chin as they slid down to lie pressed together on the sofa. And then he could feel that his voice, though still quiet, had grown a bit stronger when he whispered, “Want to help me film something tomorrow?”

Phil twined his legs together with Dan’s and leaned down to kiss his hair again as they lay together. “Always.”


End file.
